The winter soldier was assigned to kill you. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Bucky. He had a hand at your throat, and you were gasping for air. You’d known Bucky in the 40’s, quite well actually. “Bucky… it’s me- please…” You muttered through harsh attempts at breathing. Though, something changed in him. He removed his hand from your neck, his eyes softening. “Is it really you…?” He asked, a look of feat plastered on his face.